


Reconcile

by Sayl



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 12:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17345453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sayl/pseuds/Sayl
Summary: Ke'ri taught him what the colors of the butterflies mean, but those omens follow him even years after her death...And it takes a lifetime and some dark magic to help him make peace with his past.





	1. Chon’sin - Age 10

**Author's Note:**

> To summarize, this a journey through Lon’qu’s life from childhood on showing the healing process he goes through after Ke’ri’s death. Featuring: Excessive butterfly symbolism! 
> 
> The color symbolism is pulled from a few different cultures so you'll see Irish influences, Chinese influences, etc. as far as the symbolism goes. I took a few creative liberties.
> 
> These are mini chapters! The first few are very short and the later ones are a bit longer so bear with me on that!

_**Chon’sin - Age 10** _

 

The wildflower patch isn’t empty like it usually is. Most of the other kids in the village avoided it, afraid of being stung by bees. Or to avoid Lon’qu, the weird moody child who played with bugs and never smiled and always wore the same tattered clothes.

But today, Lon’qu isn’t alone. He visits the flower patch often, he likes to watch the bees and butterflies and hummingbirds. He stands on the outskirts, watching cautiously from a distance. There’s a girl kneeling among the flower beds, around his age. But he’s never seen her before. She’s from the richer part of the village judging by the style and quality of her clothes, brightly colored like the flowers around her. Long black tresses fall around her shoulders in twin tails. He considers just leaving, always invisible to the others anyway. But as he takes a step back, she looks over and notices him. She doesn’t scowl or leave like the others, though. She stays there and smiles warmly at him, her hands resting delicately in her lap.

“ Hello there ,” she greets in a sweet voice. “ Did you come to watch the butterflies too ?”

He looks behind him over his shoulder, as if in disbelief that she could be talking to him. There must be someone behind him that she’s speaking to. But there’s no one there. Looking back to the girl, he fidgets nervously with the collar of his shirt. He doesn’t speak, just gives a numb nod in reply.

The girl’s smile doesn’t wane, and she instead gestures with her hand for him to come over. Lon’qu hesitates, taking a tentative step forward before pausing again. But fighting his nerves in hopes that maybe this girl is actually nice like she seems to be, he walks over to her and takes a seat nearby. They watch in silence for a few moments before she speaks again, making passing comments to him about the flowers or the birds or the colors and smiling as she does. Not a single comment about his clothes or the bruise on his cheek or messy hair. Moments of peaceful quiet pass in between. He mostly nods in response to her speaking. For all she knows he’s mute.

“ I’ve always wondered what it’s like to hold a butterfly. They seem so delicate and afraid, they always flutter off if you get too close .”

Lon’qu’s eyes light up and finally, he speaks. “ They’ll land on you...if there’s a reason to. I can show you...if you want .”

The girl blinks at him, surprised to see him finally talk. But her look of surprise quickly morphs into a brighter smile, gentle excitement lacing her tone. “ Really ?”

He doesn’t respond, instead plucking a honeysuckle blossom from the bush to his left. Scooting closer to her, he pinches the green base of the flower and looks up at her, “ Yeah… Hold out your finger. It’s a little sticky...but they like the smell .”

When she holds out her index finger on her right hand, he pulls the petals away from the stem over it, touching the drop of nectar across her knuckle and telling her to just sit still for a while. And so they do, side-by-side in silence they wait nearly twenty minutes. He can tell her hand is starting to get tired, and worries that this will be the one day the trick doesn’t work and he’ll look like a liar. But just as he lets out a disappointed exhale, yellow wings flutter from a daffodil and onto her finger, perching on the base of her fingernail.

The girl’s face brightens like the sun, mouth opening in silent exclamation for a few moments before she looks back to him, whispering quietly in hopes she doesn't scare it off.  
“ What is your name ?”

“ ...Lon’qu .”

“ Thank you, Lon’qu. My name is Ke’ri .” The golden wings then beat again, fluttering off towards the river. But her smile doesn’t fade.

“ You know they say the color of the wings means different things. Yellow butterflies are a sign of hope and good health .”

He isn’t sure how much he believes in all that...But if it was a good omen...Hope that he might have a friend...He won’t question it. For the first time he can remember, he smiles.


	2. Chon’sin - Age 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chon’sin - Age 16

There’s barely a cent to his name. His family can barely afford food as it is. But that doesn’t stop him from scrounging up what he has for the picnic they’d planned that morning. Years of friendship had recently become more, Lon’qu and Ke’ri now courting in secret to avoid the repercussions of their parents finding out. While his father is at work and his mother still sleeps, Lon’qu sneaks out of the house for the day, prepared to deal with the consequences later. But for now, he heads toward the river where the two teenagers had agreed to meet...Near the flower patch where they’d first met that had grown into a small field. 

 

Along the way, not a flower in sight, a pair of small, delicate wings flutter in front of his face, passing by in a flurry that makes him stop in his tracks for a moment, head reeling back as it almost collides with his nose. Lon’qu glances after it, red wings shining in the morning sun as it flutters back towards the village. He blinks, what did red mean again? He knows she’s told him before, but he can’t recall. Maybe he’ll ask her when they meet up. Hurrying down the path with a bag of food in hand, he heads towards the riverside, the incident completely forgotten by the time he sees her smiling face.

 

….

 

Red meant danger.

 

...

 

He should have remembered…

…

 

He should have listened…

 

…..

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's really short but it didn't need to be longer. The rest are a lot longer I promise.


	3. Regna Ferox - Age 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regna Ferox - Age 18

Snow coats the ground around him, just outside the awning of the blacksmith shop. The smithy offered him food and shelter as payment for his apprenticeship. In addition, Lon'qu was permitted to practice with the swords, learning how to wield them, fight with them and test their quality. As the evening settles in, the air grows colder each hour. Lon'qu doesn’t let that deter him.

The metal flashes in the light of the setting sun as he brandishes the weapon. He can tell the sword is unbalanced. He’s still learning the trade, but it’s better than his last. More importantly, he’s better with handling them. Despite his lack of battle experience, he wants to master the blade. He wants to be a warrior: one that won’t fall when confronted by an enemy...One who won’t let innocent women be killed when he should protect them…

As he swings to his right, he notices something in the corner of his eye as it flutters down, perching on a nearby barrel in the snow.

A butterfly. Wings of black with white around the edges.

 

But how? Ferox was generally too cold for insects...So what was it doing here?

Immediately on edge, Lon’qu lowers his weapon. What did black mean again? It’s been so long since he’s thought about them...Not with the memories they drag along. There were multiple meanings for every color, he knew that…

And then he remembers...

 

 _Death_.

 

For one to find him out here in the middle of an ice-ridden country can’t be anything less than an omen. His hand trembles where it holds his sword, but he doesn’t sheathe it. He glances around for any sign of danger. There’s nothing but silence, not even the cracking of twigs on the path. The last time he ignored such a sign had ended in tragedy… And though death might be the fate he deserves for his past failure...His fear wins out. He retreats inside, bolting the door shut behind him.

He doesn’t sleep that night. For all he knew, the smithy’s life was in danger rather than his own. Though they weren’t close, if his new employer died, Lon’qu would be out on the frozen streets once again…

 

Hours pass, but nothing happens.

 

There must be another meaning...He should try to find out.

  
Or it’s all just a coincidence...Maybe he shouldn’t believe the myths.


	4. Ylisse - Age 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ylisse - Age 24

He’s never actually been to Ylisse. Regna Ferox was all he knew after fleeing Chon’sin eight years ago. But upon his most recent loss in the Feroxi Tournament, he now finds himself shipped off with another country’s army under another ruler. But Basilio gives the orders, and Lon’qu follows them. His fear of getting close to a woman made it difficult for him to fit in, and so he distanced himself.

The memories were painful and plagued his dreams every night since the attack. A horrible insomniac, he’d grown used to functioning on very little sleep. But reliving the nightmare so frequently took a toll on his mental state and any progress he made in getting used to the women in camp was often reverted by the next morning.

One woman claimed she could rid him of those memories. A woman with dark hair and sharp eyes and an intimidating aura. She didn’t seem to quite fit in either, choosing to keep to herself when she could. But nothing about her frightened him more than any other woman. He knew nothing of dark magic or hexes or Plegia for that matter. Whatever reasons the others had to fear her he didn’t see. All he saw was that she was another woman who might die if he got too close. But her claim...That he could be free of those memories that haunt him so much…

It’s too much to pass up. He accepts...Even though it means he has to divulge his past to her. Every bit of it. Things he’s never told anyone, not even Basilio whom he trusted above anyone else, he spills it all to her.

But that evening, as he retreats to his tent to meet the nightmares once more for what he hopes is the last time, he doesn’t lay down to sleep. He sits on his cot, staring at his hands as he contemplates if he’s doing the right thing. But he can hardly function some days. None of his efforts have improved his mental state. No matter how much he grows as a warrior, he’s still a coward of a man. Surely wiping his memories is the only way he can move on…

Movement in his peripherals catches his attention. He quickly grabs his sword, nearly drawing it as he turns to look.

Perched on the collar of his discarded coat is a butterfly. Wings of black with white around the edges.

Lon’qu stares in shock, recognizing the wings from years ago. But now he remembers what the black butterflies mean.

Death. Rebirth. New Beginnings...But also, in some myths …

The presence of the departed, unable to move on to the afterlife.

  
He stares in somber silence, the last thought pounding in his head. It could be no coincidence...Guilt fills his veins and weighs heavy on his shoulders. His deep voice is but a whisper, threatening to crack were he to speak any louder.

“ ….It’s you...isn’t it ?”

Of course there’s no reply. But a certain chill runs down his spine. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end.

“....Have you come back to haunt me ?”

Silence. No movement.

If someone were to walk into his tent now and see him talking to a butterfly they’d likely think him mad.

A few long minutes of silence permeate the air, not even crickets outside to be heard. He just stares, not sure what to do or say. What to think. Was it actually Ke’ri or was he delusional? Did she know he was going to wipe his memories? Forget about what happened? ...Forget about her?

Gods, it pains him to think about forgetting her. But even the painful memories...though he wishes them gone, what would become of what he learned from them? He toils over the decision yet again as he had most of the day. But if this is really her...why hadn’t she moved on? Why did she remain here?

“ … I’m sorry …” he whispers, voice trembling. Sorry for what happened, what he’d failed to do, what he was about to do...

Now the butterfly moves, wings fluttering over to where his hand rests on his leg. It perches on his right hand, at the end of his right index finger and Lon’qu’s breath catches in his throat. The image of Ke’ri the first day he’d met her, smiling bright with yellow wings sitting delicately on her finger bursts into the front of his mind. Then just as quickly, the image leaves as the butterfly does, flying out of a tiny opening in the tent door.

Lon’qu stares after it for a few moments, wondering if the whole incident was a hallucination. But the memories, good and bad, flow strong through his mind now. And that’s when he realizes...Forgetting isn’t the answer.

He can’t go through with it.


	5. Valm - Age 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valm - Age 28

They’ve been traveling across the outskirts of Chon’sin for days now. Ever since he’d set foot on Valmese soil, Lon’qu had been even more restless than normal. His nightmares that had slowly started to recede over the last few years now came back full force, and intensified with every league they drew nearer to his country of birth. By the time they reached the border, he couldn’t sleep at all. Bags formed under his eyes, he became uncharacteristically irritable and ill-focused on the battlefield. After four nights of little to no rest, he retreats to his tent late at night, passing out from exhaustion.

But it’s short lived. The nightmares are merciless, and in the middle of the night, he jolts awake in a cold sweat just as blood and screams fill his mind. When his eyes open, there’s nothing but darkness around him and he can’t hear anything over the sound of his panicked breaths. But he knows he isn’t alone. Even in the darkness he can make out the familiar silhouette to his right as his eyes begin to adjust.

“ You’re getting worse .” The voice cuts through the darkness, low and quiet but with a stern undertone like someone who’s been inconvenienced. “ You’re going to end up dead at this rate. You haven’t had a deep sleep in a week .”

The first time he’d woken up to her in his tent had come as an unpleasant shock, but anymore it was the norm. In the silence, he knows her breathing cycle by heart at this point. Lon’qu lifts one hand up, brushing his bangs back between his fingers where the hair is matted to his forehead with sweat. His breath is still shaky and uneven, though he makes a conscious effort to calm it.

“ I know, Tharja ,” he grumbles, too exhausted to put any sort of emotion behind the words. “ I’m trying...But sleep isn’t going to come back to me until we’re away from … here .”

From Chon’sin.

From the origin of his nightmares.

“ You should have come to me ,” she scolds, though it’s mild. Reaching for something to her left, she mutters something about “stubbornness” that he doesn’t quite catch before pulling a vial out of a bag. Eyes now adjusted to the darkness, he sees a translucent liquid inside, along with a displeased look on her face. His brow furrows, attention darting from the her hardened gaze to the vial and back again. The questioning look on his face is all she needs to know what he’s thinking.

“ It’s a sleeping draft...a special sort. It suppresses dreams, so you might actually get some sleep without waking up in a panic again .” Just as he moves a hand to reach for it, her fingers curl around the glass, obscuring it from view. He frowns in response.

“ Not tonight. Tomorrow. A few drops of this will knock you out for six hours. And I’m not carrying you when we march in the morning .” He doesn’t question it, instead giving a sigh of resignation and a subtle nod. Actually, he may have only thought about nodding. He was too exhausted to move his head.

“ ...Why wait so long ?” He doubts this is a new concoction of hers. But he’s never been an expert on dark magic or hexes.

“ It’s not meant for extended use. You’ll form a dependency and there’s adverse side effects after a while … it’s better than getting impaled on the battlefield because you were too sluggish to dodge but once we’re out of the area you’re on your own again .”

This time he does nod, eyes closing as he breathes deep, finally getting a handle on his emotional state...for now. “ Understood...Thank you...I shouldn’t have expected a permanent fix, anyway …”

There’s silence for a few moments, he he can feel a sort of tension. She’s still, like she’s waiting for something. But finally, she speaks, and her question snaps his eyes open.

“ Would it help...to talk to her ?”

Lon’qu turns his head to look at Tharja, but he can’t read her expression. She doesn’t seem nervous, but she does seem hesitant, like what she’s suggesting might not be a good idea. His voice is breathy, like what she meant can’t possibly be what he thinks she meant.

“ ...What ?”

“Your friend, Ke’ri. If you could speak to her, would it help you ?”

So he didn’t misunderstand. But he’s just as shocked. He sits up finally, locking eyes with her. “ You...can do that ?”

Her face remains stoic, voice taking on a matter-of-fact tone. “ I did so for Gregor a few months ago. For his dead brother. His story had similarities to yours. He said speaking with his brother helped him heal....But he wasn’t as messed up over it as you are .”

In other words, Gregor had healed enough to handle something like that. Lon’qu hadn’t even thought such a thing was a possibility. But knowing that it was...incites a different form of panic in him. The very thought of having to face her after everything that happened all those years ago...but the opportunity to say he’s sorry...It’s overwhelming, and even in the shadows his face visibly blanches at the thought.

“ You aren’t ready ,” she says quickly, but not with the same harshness.

He nods numbly in agreement, “ No…. I’m not .” He wonders if he ever will be.

“ You’ll know when you are ,” she says, the conversation ending at that as she sets the vial off to the side for the following evening. As she pulls it back, his own hand reaches out, wrapping his fingers around hers. She allows it, and he feels the slightest squeeze in return.

She has more faith in him than he has in himself.


	6. Regna Ferox - Age 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regna Ferox - Age 40

The spring in Ferox was always short, but was one of the few times there was ever a bloom of any sort or any grass to be seen. A short way from the fortress, some of the snow thaw gave way to a small patch of rugged blossoms, flowers that lay dormant nearly ten months of the year to bloom only for a few short weeks in the spring.

Lon’qu approaches the field, sword ever at his belt. A small jar is in his right hand, a smaller hand in his left. The skies were grey and the temperature was steadily dropping each day. By the end of the week, another frost would roll in, a new snowstorm to follow. He looks down to his left where the young girl walks in stride with him, her steps more impatient than his own. She was around ten now, but still small and fragile in his eyes. Someone who needed protection, and whom he would die for. Her dark, messy hair was cropped short and her sharp eyes seemed attentive to every detail of the world.

They sit beside the bed of flowers, Noire seeming impatient as she looks around. Lon’qu reaches for the small jar to his right, removing the lid to dip his fingers in the sugar water. Honeysuckle didn’t grow here, but the simple concoction was almost as good. He hands the jar to Noire, but she frowns.

“ Do I have to put it on my finger, papa? It’s sticky and my hand gets tired .”

An amused huff leaves him at the pout on her face. But rather than argue with her, he reaches forward and touches his fingers to her nose, leaving a trail of the sugar water behind.

“ How’s that ?” He teases, a gentle smile on his face.

His daughter giggles in response, for only a few moments before finally sitting still. Legs crossed, the sit and wait.

It isn’t long before a butterfly comes by, fluttering across the chilly air to rest on Lon’qu’s index finger. But his heart nearly drops at the sight.

Black wings edged in white.

Silent as the grave, he stares. After all this time, these wings still followed him the same way his guilt had. Guilt he’d never truly shaken even twenty five years later. He feels a wave of sorrow surge inside him, threatening to break his resolve.

But the sound of laughter to his right breaks him out of it. He looks over at Noire to see a butterfly perched on the tip of her nose, a confused smile of joy and nerves gracing her features. A moment later, it opens its wings, hiding part of her face to reveal a splash of shimmering violet.

Purple...an omen of encouragement...progress...of healing.

A bittersweet smile crosses his lips. When the chill of the wind begins to bite at their skin and drive off the colored wings, he picks up his daughter in his arms and carries her home.

 

* * *

 

 

That night, Noire fast asleep, he finds his wife in her study. Flickering candlelight fractures around the room as it pierces colored glass and tonics, stacks of books painting the walls with shadow. Darkness contrasts against her sharp features as she looks to where he stands in the doorway.

“ What is it ?” she drawls in her usual tone.

He’s silent a moment. Though he has his resolve, though he feels calm, it’s still difficult to speak the words. But he does.

“ I’m ready … to speak to her .”

Tharja doesn’t respond at first, remaining still with tome and quill in hand as she stares at him. She analyzes him to make sure that he’s not deluding himself, that he is actually in a state of mind to speak to the girl who died so long ago, whose death he blamed on himself even when he shouldn’t. And after a few moments, she decides she’s seen enough. Setting the items down on her desk, she turns to the cabinet behind her and slides open a small door on the top shelf.

“ I was starting to think I’d wasted my time preparing this years ago .” As she speaks, she pulls down a small box from the cabinet, the contents inside unknown to him. “ But better late than never .”

It takes a short while for her to prepare. By the time she’s finished, they kneel facing each other. Between them is an arrangement of earth-scented candles. Around them in a circle of chalk fashioned in a pattern he doesn’t recognize. His nerves have him on edge, but not for the spell. Nerves about what he’s going to say, how he’s going to react...What Ke’ri would say to him. There are so many unknowns, and it threatens to overwhelm him. The remaining cowardice in his soul tugs at him to back out.

Tharja takes his hands in hers, their arms hovering around the firelight that he’s subconsciously staring into.

“ Hey .”

Her voice breaks him out of his reverie and he looks up and though he would never describe her face as soft, the eye contact she holds with him is powerful, drawing a resolve out of him that he had difficulty drawing out himself.

“ You’ll be fine .”

Lon’qu nods in response. Once she has that confirmation, Tharja closes her eyes, but her voice is clear and focused.

“ Imagine her face. Imagine her voice. Then speak .”

  
And after taking a moment to steel himself for what was to come, he does. He closes his eyes, Ke’ri’s face forming in his mind, her voice echoing with it. He feels a chill descend on the room, like the slightest outside breeze has broken through the thick, insulated walls.

“ Ke’ri… Are you there ?”

The silence in the room is permeating, almost unbearable like his ears are about to pop. But then a voice breaks through. Not Tharja’s, but a sweet voice with both a hollow echo and an exuberant joy. Ke’ri’s voice.

_(Hello, old friend. It’s so good to speak to you again ~)_

Not an ounce of sadness or anger or pain laces her voice. He feels something in him crack. She hasn’t said it, but already he knows she never blamed him. That she never wanted him to blame himself. But even still, as he feels water threaten to pool at the corners of his eyes, he says it anyway.

He tells her that he’s sorry.


	7. Ylisse - Age 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ylisse - Age 41

Ylisse was unbearably warm in the summer. Sweat already pools at the collar of his tunic, droplets running down his neck. But he doesn’t complain. Though he’s here for business, a biannual summit with Chrom, the trip is also for pleasure. Tharja’s distaste for the cold climate in Ferox meant their stay in the neighboring country was a welcome reprieve. Many of their old friends still lived here, ones they hadn’t seen in months. Noire has already let go of his hand in favor of running towards the gates to meet her friends. In no hurry, Tharja keeps pace with him to his left.

As they approach the main entrance, a soldier moves to greet them, sending another to announce the arrival of the West Khan and his entourage to the Exalt. But something stops Lon’qu in his tracks even as his wife continues forward.

Movement at the corner of his vision draws his eye, and he looks down. There, perched on the pommel of the sword he wears at his hip, is a butterfly. Wings of a pure and brilliant white are almost iridescent in the sunlight, the edges lined with yellow.

Mouth slightly agape, he stares at wings that look so familiar, save for the drastic change in color. There’s a chill that hits his spine, gooseflesh forming on the skin of his arms, but not out of fear.

White...said to be the presence of the departed, watching over you from the afterlife.

Frozen in place, he stares. But he isn’t overcome with sorrow or regret or guilt like he once was. Instead, he smiles, the closure he’d finally found after so long leaving him at peace.

And as it would seem, her as well.

White wings flit about a moment before taking to the sky once more, disappearing into endless blue as his gaze follows. Staring up at the sky, he watches for a few moments, white clouds slowly drifting by in the breeze.

“ Hey, what’s wrong with you ?” A hint of impatience lines Tharja’s voice, but it lacks the harshness one might expect. If you listened hard enough, you might hear the whisper of concern underneath.

Lon’qu turns his attention back to where she stands a few meters away. The furrow in her brow seems to soften in subtle surprise when she sees his face and the smile on it widen just a bit more.

“ Nothing ,” he says. Truly meaning it for once. For the first time, he feels truly free of the shadows of guilt and remorse. He wonders if he could have ever gotten to this point without her.

“ Never been better .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end guys! I hope you enjoyed it! This was just a really long drabble so I thought breaking it up would make it more manageable to read. 
> 
> Also, for those of you who wonder why I love Lon'qu/Tharja this is just like 30% of why.  
> Maybe I'll convert some of you~

**Author's Note:**

> This is a finished work so I'll schedule up the chapters to post through the next week or so!


End file.
